


Fault Lines

by orangeangora



Category: Dutch (1991)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 08:47:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28468500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeangora/pseuds/orangeangora
Summary: What were the characters thinking their first night on the road?
Relationships: Dutch/Doyle





	1. Chapter 1

No matter how hard I try, I can't fall asleep (weird how that works), though I should. I'm exhausted. It's been that kind of a day. Actually, it's been the kind of day I've never had before and hopefully, never ever will again. 

I mean it isn't like it's every day, your mother's boyfriend shows up at your dorm unannounced before break, assaults and then abducts you (trussing you up first like a Thanksgiving turkey) because you have enough smarts not to take off with a total stranger voluntarily. And where the hell was campus security anyway when this was going on? Who lets some lunatic wander around, except maybe they've already taken off, too. Or they thought he was some kid's father. More likely, they figured he was just a maintenance worker. 

Okay, I assaulted him, too, technically, but what adult wouldn't simply retreat and leave? Karate was supposed channel my aggression (whatever that meant). At one point, I wanted to stop (though now I can't remember why), but my father said he didn't raise quitters, so I stuck with it, and also because the idea of being able to beat the crap out of anyone who hassled me was appealing. So it's not a noble motive, who cares? It wasn't like I'd ever been the only kid who was motivated by revenge. Still I'd never confronted a man twice my age and twice my size except in the dojo, and anyhow, I could press charges myself if my father won't. Once I return to civilization that is. 

Speaking of fathers, I have absolutely no idea what mine will do when he finally gets wind of this. Start preparing a lawsuit? (He has his own personal lawyer on speed dial.) But he's not here, he's not even in the country, so that will all have to wait. Besides, surely I can get myself out of this on my own.

I wasn't lying to the guy when I told him I had plans. If I couldn't be with my father this holiday, I was perfectly fine with not going home. Why did he not get that? If I was old enough to decide to go boarding school in the first, place, why wasn't I old enough to decide to stay there over break if I wanted? It wasn't like anything was going to happen to me. Not the way it could going cross-country in that piece of crap he calls his truck.

Not that I'd be any more uncomfortable than I am right now. I'd already figured out ahead of time that we weren't headed for the Hilton, or even the Marriott or whatever the nearest approximation would be out here in the middle of nowhere, but this place he picked is really a shithole. It reeks of secondhand smoke, there's this weird lump at the bottom of the mattress, and the walls are thin enough so that you can hear everything, and I mean everything. But like I said, I wasn't expecting that any guy my mother would date would have sheet thread count as a criteria for choosing a hotel, so we weren't heading anyplace with scented soap and complimentary chocolates on the pillows. (Seriously, my father wouldn't be caught dead in a dump like this.) 

I did consider trying to sneak out once he fell asleep. If i were going to escape, now would be the ideal time. But I decided that wasn't feasible, not with low funds, no one reliable to call and come rescue me, plus it's freezing out, and I don't want to catch pneumonia on top of everything else. Besides it's a safe bet that he'd have no hesitation about tying me up again, and then I'd never get to sleep.

But despite everything, it's not the end of the world. It's not the worst thing in the world that's happened to me, if you want the truth. That would be a couple of years ago. Ever since I could remember, my parents would fight, excuse me, have a discussion, but I figured that was normal because I had nothing to compare it to and my friends' families seemed more or less the same from what I could tell. Maybe it's unavoidable when you live with someone day in and day out, no matter if you actually love them.

One of the things they fought over was whether or not to have more children. My mother was pro; my father, decidedly against. I never could figure out if it was because I was enough or if it was because I was more than enough. I never asked him. Maybe I was afraid he'd tell me the truth, and I didn't want to hear it. So I remained an only child to which people will occasionally respond to this revelation as if my family is part of a cult. Or as if that explains some deep dark secret. As if my parents' choices are any of their business in the first place.

I hadn't noticed any increases in discussions, though maybe I just wasn't paying close enough attention, so the fact that my parents finally decided to call it quits and split up completely shocked me. When I hadn't been paying attention, they'd "grown apart," and decided that this was "best for everyone."

Maybe I'm not as smart as I thought, if something like this could sneak up on me. But in the end, they'd reached the point where they could get into a discussion about whether or not the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and even I could see that. 

My father suggested boarding school but said that he would leave it up to me. The highly credential shrink my parents sent me to to make sure the divorce proceedings weren't scarring me also agreed that it was good that I should get away to someplace where it was easier to breathe, easier to concentrate on other stuff and easier not to think about my parents (gag) dating again and eventually even marrying. Moving on.

"Between you and me," he said on the way up to school three months ago, "your mother is not the easiest person in the world to live with." 

What was I supposed to say to that? I had a feeling that maybe he should be telling the shrink that, instead of me, but I didn't know. So I just nodded in agreement.

A snore from the next bed brings me back to the present and my predicament: that I'm stuck for the next few days with a guy who hates my guts. I don't know whether he decided this before he met me, but I can hardly go back and reverse what happened. So for now, I'll try to be at least somewhat civil. It's not like I have to spend any more time with him than I have to once I'm home. 

If you want to call it home. But deciding that seems to work, and I fall asleep.


	2. Fault Lines

Dutch

No one has ever accused me of being the brightest bulb, but after acquiring a sore knee, an aching shoulder and another ache where I'd rather not mention, I came to the definite conclusion that my charge for the next few days hated my guts.

I honestly couldn't remember the last time I'd so badly misjudged anyone of any age.

I'd expected reluctance. I'd expected resistance. After all, he was probably crushed that his father had cancelled their holiday plans, which made sense. I could sympathize with that, but perhaps for different reasons. Yet who in their right mind would willingly choose to spend the holiday by himself? Thus my plan to take the decision out of his hands figuring that once he'd gotten over his snit, he'd be grateful he was home. It had made sense at the time.

When I'd woken up this morning, checked out of the motel and set forward on the last leg of my trip to retrieve Natalie, my girlfriend's oddly named kid from his school with the intention of bringing him home to spend Thanksgiving break with his mom, I'd been optimistic, my usual state of mind. Even tried to put myself in his place, even though I'd never experienced my parents divorcing or a privileged upbringing or boarding school, although a few minutes on arrival assured me the kid hadn't exactly been shipped to Siberia. 

Her advice came back to me now as I shifted in the dark of our motel room and tried to find a comfortable position to fall asleep.

"Don't expect him to warm up to you right away. He hates surprises. And he was really counting on his father coming through this time."

Okay, I got that. Or thought I did. But whatever I had been expecting, it was not a cross between Damien and the Karate Kid. 

Natalie had, however, been on the money when she'd told me that her son was precocious. True he was undoubtedly a smart kid, though so far, his primary talent appeared to be inflicting as much pain as possible when he didn't get his way.

Oh yes, and who could forget this gem? 

"Underneath all that, he's really a sweet kid." Pregnant pause. "When he wants to be, I mean."

Apparently, that hadn't been one of those days. Though I have to admit it would be amusing if it were all happening to someone else. Well, maybe someday, I'd look back on this experience and be able to laugh.

I supposed there was always tomorrow. After all, we still had a few days to go.

Miracles could happen.

*

The first time I went over to Natalie's to pick her up for a date, I arrived early and wound up sitting in the living room while she primps upstairs. I examined the photos on the mantle, lingering on one of a boy standing on a bright green lawn staring off into the distance, clearly ignoring whoever was behind the camera. 

Then she entered and walked over to the mantle where I was standing near the photo.

"That's my son, Doyle."

Doyle? What kind of name is that, I thought, as I nodded, intrigued by this news. She didn't look old enough to have a kid that old, but then I wasn't good with ages. Kids' ages, that is. 

But she continued. 

"He's twelve." A sigh. "Going on forty-five."

I did the math in my head, then try to look like I hadn't. This threw me, as I'd seen no signs - no bikes parked on the lawn, no sneakers or jackets draped over the couch, no sports or electronic gadgets in the living room - that would reveal the presence of a preteen boy. 

"Does he live with his father then?" I ask, even though the thought of Natalie choosing not to fight for custody makes no sense either. 

"No, he's at school. That's where the photo was taken."

It takes me a moment to realize she means boarding school. Another reminder of the distance between us. "Aren't there decent schools he could go to around here?" But I know there's more to it than that. Maybe it's a status thing.

"His father went around the same age. It's a tradition in Reed's family." I must have been looking mystified or maybe disapproving, for she adds, "It's not as heartless as it sounds. He chose to go. It was probably the best thing, for him to get away from our problems."

I didn't want to pry into that right now. "So how's he been doing."

But that was another blunder. 

"No idea really. He doesn't write or call much, even though I told him he could collect anytime."

All I could say lamely was, "I'm sure he's just busy."

She looked away, then back at me. "Am I boring you with all this?" 

"No, of course not." I looked directly at her. "I like kids. I'd like to have my own someday. And I hope that one day, if he's visiting, I'll have a chance to meet him."

*

And I meant it at the time. I hadn't said that, nor claimed to her later that I liked kids to score points with her. But now, in the span of less than a day, I was not only regretting it deeply, but I was beginning to question the wisdom of my decision to one day have children with the right woman, as well.

Maybe her kid was just the exception to the rule. Many of my friends, who did not have the obscene wealth of my girlfriend's ex, but who were certainly comfortable enough to give their families most advantages, did not have kids like this. I'd spent time with them, and none regarded me as if I were something they couldn't wait to scrape of the bottom of their shoes. The second-to-last time I'd seen that look, in fact, was on Reed Standish's face. What was that saying about the apple not falling far from the tree? 

Still, any aches and pains I'd sustained were beginning to fade, along with my annoyance with my companion. I could lie here in the dark and blame him all I wanted, but the truth was that Natalie had warned me, and I hadn't listened even though I'd nodded along. Or rather I'd listened, but I hadn't actually heard. And as the kid himself had pointed out, I was supposed to be the adult in this relationship. I wasn't supposed to be his shrink or his real father, who he obviously had up on a pedestal. Maybe I never would find out what was bugging him (maybe he didn't know either), much less become his friend, but maybe if I stopped obsessing about it, it would happen naturally. 

Maybe one day, we'd all look back at today and have a laugh, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, my job was to look out for him and get him home safely in one piece.

Not to mention myself.


End file.
